Not Okay
by wonderkid100
Summary: He's high, bored and curious, maybe lonely too and she just can't stop worrying about him. The temptation is just too much for them both. But soon they get dangerously hooked and actions have consequences. (Sherlolly. Set after Sign of three. Rated M for sex, language and drug use. Was originally a one shot but have decided to continue.)
1. Chapter 1

SHERLOCK: NOT OKAY

**Disclaimers note**:_ This is the first Sherlock fanfic I've written. Unfortunately I don't own anything otherwise we'd have a series 15 by now! :( _

_This is rated M for sex and drug use. I'm sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, I am typing this all out on my iPhone haha. Also I apologise for any Britishism mistakes, which would be embarrassing seeing as I'm a Londoner. Furthermore, I've never done cocaine, I don't know how someone that uses it acts; so I've done my best portrayal based on the varying info from the world wide Interwebs._

_I've tried my best to keep I character and I apologise for any inconsistencies etc... I also apologise a lot because I'm too British at times haha._

_This was originally meant to be a 'prelude' to a real story of Sherlock and Molly facing the consequences of their night together which would then be set after HLV. But this turned out to be pretty long (I think can't really tell when typing on iPhone) so should I leave it as it is or carry it on? All reviews, opinions, criticism (constructive hehe) very much appreciated! _

_God I hope this posts okay with paragraphs and stuff... Again iPhone probs!_

_I'm gonna go now..._

_Enjoy!_

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**UPDATE: Since originally typing the above author's note I've decided this will be a full story not just a one shot! :) so this is officially chapter one!  
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**CHAPTER 1:**

They gave in that night.

She gave into his harsh words and gave him what he wanted, despite the fact he was just using her as always.

He gave in to boredom along his basic human instinct and desire of need and to be wanted.

He'd left the wedding half hour before midnight. He was genuinely happy for John but he knew he didn't belong in such social situations, it was just awkward and he knew he'd stayed longer than anyone had expected him to, so his departure wouldn't go down badly. Not that anyone would notice; everyone was pretty much drunk.

'Have you ever felt alone in a room full of people?'

John had said that to him once. He shook the words from his mind as he hailed a taxi. He wasn't lonely. He was bored. It had been nearly an hour since solving his last case, the invisible man, now he was bored again.

"Charles Magnussen," he murmured to himself. Now that the wedding was over that would be his focus. Something to ease the boredom and he knew where he had to start.

"Where to?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and realised at black cab had pulled up in front of him he was about to say Baker Street but changed his mind. He had something he needed to pick up first.

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All night she'd been stealing longing glances at him. As usual, he didn't notice, even when she'd snogged Tom's face off in front of him he just went about his business. He seemed far more interested in that Janine. Not that she was anything special. But she watched him as he left, his expression. She almost felt sorry for him.

She left the wedding an hour after he did. She made her excuses to Tom that she'd drunk too much and needed to go. He offered to rent a hotel room for the night but she declined, he then said that he'd accompany her back to her flat or his flat, but she declined that too. She told him to stay and enjoy the rest of the night seeing as he was getting along with everyone so well, it took a bit of persuading but he agreed in the end. He called her a minicab and saw her off, telling her to text him when she arrived home. She agreed and kissed her fiancée goodnight.

The moment she was in the cab she gave the driver a different address.

"221b Baker Street please."

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He felt the rush almost instantaneously.

It had been too long. Years, in fact. This should ease the boredom. No, the case would ease the boredom. This was all just for the case. He was doing this for the case and as soon as it was over he'd go cold turkey again.

John would be away on his 'sex holiday' so he wouldn't find out, once he'd found a suitable den he wouldn't be at home much so Mrs Hudson wouldn't find out either. Lestrade and Molly wouldn't be of bother, Molly was too wrapped up in Tom anyway and his brother, well, he could avoid Mycroft's surveillance if he really wanted to. And by the time they did find out, when his drug habit hit the media, they wouldn't be mad they'd be appreciative of the fact that once again Sherlock Holmes was saving the day. Not that he was a hero or he cared whether they were mad at him or not.

He threw the rolled up fiver to the side and leaned back in his armchair closing his eyes.

Everything rushed so quickly through his mind, he didn't know if he was talking out loud but he knew he was going through the details and facts he already had on Charles Magnussen.

Then there was a knock at the front door. He looked at his watch, gone midnight. He hoped the person would go away but they kept on knocking. With a growl he got up and pulled back the curtain to look outside. Molly Hooper. This was all he needed and she was looking up at him. Great.

He wiped any leftover traces of the cocaine off of the table and threw the other packets of powder and the discarded £5 note into a kitchen drawer before going downstairs to open the door.

"Molly," he said unenthusiastically.

"Sherlock," she smiled at him there was an almost awkward silence before she spoke again. "Erm... Are you okay?"

He realised she was looking at his foot that was tapping away, he stopped abruptly. "I'm fine, what do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

He stared at her for a few seconds before stepping aside to let her in. Once the front door was closed he could smell alcohol.

"You're drunk." He stated as she followed him upstairs.

"Am not," came her delayed reply.

"Why are you here?" He repeated impatiently, "shouldn't you be having lots of sex with Tom right now?" He didn't have to look at her to know she would probably blush as he used her own words against her.

"Sherlock," she grabbed him by arm making him face her as they reached the top of the stairs something he wasn't expecting, must be the alcohol, she rarely initiated any physical contact with him when sober. Not that he noticed.

"Tell me, are you okay?" she gave him a warm look and he noted her dilated pupils. Lust and intoxication. Then his eyes travelled down to her lips, she was going on about something but he wasn't paying any attention. She had a small mouth, thin lips even with the lipstick. Not like his own lips. They weren't thin. He wondered if him kissing her would feel different to her kissing him, because of their lip sizes.

"Your pupils are dilated."

Sherlock shook his head, that definitely wasn't him saying that. "I had a couple of drinks at the wedding," he explained, knowing she wouldn't expect otherwise.

"You're drunk?"

"I said a couple and now that we've established that I'm not drunk and apparently okay. You can go home now." He pulled his arm out of her grasp and walked towards the kitchen, stopping at the counter, stretching out his arms and grabbing the sides, tapping away with his fingers.

"That's not why I'm here," she said. "I know you're not okay, I always know remember."

"You're also drunk, you don't know what you're on about and neither do I." he lowered his voice and hung his head taking a deep breath before pushing himself off the counter to face the pathologist with a fake smile plastered across his face. "I am perfectly fine Molly; let me call you a cab."

"Sherlock!" She said defiantly.

"Go away!" He snapped, "I am fine, I'm not lonely because John's got married and I don't need a goldfish!" He took a seat on the sofa leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his hair.

"Goldfish?" he heard her mutter. Then she carried on talking to him, at him. Something about loneliness.

He'd wanted something to distract him from his boredom but he'd never asked for this. Not her words or irritating concern for him. But there was something she could give. Sexual gratification; something he was growing increasingly curious about and, even though he'd never given into it yet, drugs had always lowered his inhibitions and increased his desire for it.

"You." He interrupted her looking up going into full 'charm' mode.

"Excuse me?"

"Why would I be lonely when I have you, Molly Hooper?"

She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again and he smirked, that had shut her up.

"You've said it yourself before, I have you."

"No," she said, "you don't have me anymore. Tom has me."

"But yet you're here with me and I didn't even have to tell you that I needed you." He stood up and walked behind her, she stood completely still. "So what if I did tell you that I needed you again?" He whispered in her ear.

"What..." Her voice cracked. "What do you mean? What do you need?"

"Just you," he kissed her lightly on her jawbone causing her to spin around and push him away.

"What are you doing?"

"You're the expert," he chuckled, "you tell me!"

"Why would you do that? You know I'm with Tom! You can't just do this now because I'm with someone else!"

"Now, you care about Tom?" He snorted, "I bet he doesn't even know that you're here right now." He stepped forward, closing space between them. "You'd much rather be here with me."

Her lips parted to speak but before any words could leave her mouth he'd claimed it with his own. Forcing his tongue into her mouth, it was sloppy but he was too caught up in the moment to care. She was quickly kissing him back, using her own tongue as they battled for dominance to feel each other.

"This is wrong," she sighed as the broke apart.

"I want you Molly Hooper." He said as if that justified it, he pressed kisses down her neck, "I want you to show me what it's like to be with another person."

"You've never..."

"Never," he answered before she could finish.

"Just tonight. One night. That's all."

"That's all I ask."

It wasn't long before hands were roaming over each other's bodies. Clumsily stripping each other of clothes, he found himself glad she was somewhat drunk as it gave her confidence he was sure she wouldn't normally have around him. It didn't take much to turn him on, he honestly couldn't tell whether it was an effect of cocaine, whether it was just a normal physical response to her hands touching him or maybe it was out of anticipation of knowing he was going to experience something new, something not boring. Then there was the theory that subconsciously he actually wanted her and the thought of her turned him on. But that theory was ludicrous.

They were soon stripped to just their underwear. She was wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties. Her lips were still thin and her breasts still small. But he would be lying of he said that he still didn't find her aesthetically pleasing.

He pulled her close to carry on kissing and fiddled with the clasp on her bra, a task he found surprisingly difficult, but he didn't let it defeat him and the bra was soon with the other discarded clothing on the floor.

He kissed down her body and then took her nipple into his mouth. He knew this was an erogenous zone and as he expected she gasped out of pleasure. He gave her other nipple the same treatment before continuing kissing down her body until he was on his knees in front of her.

He knew what he was meant to do next, now he just had to put it into practise. He pulled down her panties, her hands already fisting his hair in anticipation. She was already so wet and ready, he could have her there and then without wasting time on this foreplay. But he was curious. What did she taste like? He licked her slit and she gasped a profanity, the taste was neither nice nor nasty but he did like the vocal reaction he got. He went at her with his tongue again and found her clit flicking it and sucking it. The way she moaned his name was most pleasing. He could feel his cock throbbing. Enough time wasting.

He stood back up.

"Why did you stop?" Molly sighed breathlessly.

"Sorry darling," he grunted stepping out of his boxers, "I need this much more." He pushed her up against the nearest wall and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, he placed a hand on her arse to support her.

"I'm on the pill," she said even though he wasn't asking.

He used his free hand to guide his cock towards her entrance and with one single thrust pushed up inside her.

"Fuck!" They said simultaneously.

He didn't waste any time going slowly, he was impatient and knew she could accommodate him easily; it wasn't as if she hadn't had sex in a while. He thrusted fast, biting her neck, uncaring whether he left a mark. Her problem, not his. It wouldn't be long before he finished and despite her continuous moaning, he had no idea whether he was hitting the 'g spot' he'd heard about. He didn't want to cum first, so to help her along he took a hand to her clit using his finger to rub it in circles.

She moaned louder and grabbed at his back, it seemed she would mark him too without any care. And then she came undone. Climaxing, she called out his name, sinking her nails into him and tightening her wet entrance around his cock. A few more thrusts were all he needed to send him over the edge too. He was much less vocal, just letting out a long satisfied gasp. Immense pleasure swept through his entire body and, again he wasn't sure if it was due to the drugs he'd taken, his senses seemed heightened to the extreme. That was coming for a man who already paid attention to every little thing that happened around him. His brain became a mess, he couldn't focus, his brain was fighting over letting the pleasure overcome him or regaining control. A million irrelevant thoughts crossed his mind then he could feel her touching him, her hands trailing over his back where she'd previously scratched him, the pain felt amplified. He wanted to push her away from him but he couldn't.

Instead, he held their position for a moment and rested his forehead against the wall, breathing heavily. Waiting until he'd regained his composure and his brain was back to its normal, albeit high, self of being able to make sense of everything. Then he let go of her and her feet found the floor again.

Molly leaned into his chest and he hesitated for a moment before gently trailing his finger over his cheek then placed a kiss there.

"Thank you Molly, and sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I've pretty much destroyed your marriage. Although I'm sure stabbing him with a fork had already sealed the deal."

"Tom and I will be fine," she said defensively looking up at him. Her eyes suddenly glazed with tears and despite his apology he realised he didn't want to deal with the crying or guilt at the moment.

"Okay," he said then he bent his head down to catch her lips between his for a prolonged kiss then he broke apart and without any word picked up his clothes and headed towards the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. His thought process was becoming clouded again, not because a high or a rush this time but everything was slowing down. He hadn't missed this; the comedown from the cocaine. He was craving more already. But he knew he couldn't, he had to learn to limit himself if he was going to survive the next month.

"Stay here tonight." He suggested confidently returning to the living area, Molly had stepped back into the yellow dress he decided she looked better without and was presumably looking for local minicab numbers on her phone.

"No more sex, but you said one night, I have one night. It's not over yet."

"I have to be home by ten," she stopped looking at her phone. "Tom will be over mine at 10:30 with breakfast as always when I'm not working, even if he's hungover." As she explained this, a genuine smile formed on her face and Sherlock had to remind himself that he didn't do guilt. Just like he didn't do sentiment.

He took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. She changed into a plain white t-shirt of his which ridiculously big on her, he had to fight back the smile at this. He stopped to his boxers. When she got under the covers he kissed her cheek again saying their goodnights.

She turned away from him and knew she was doing her best not to touch him. She was still nervous despite what they'd just done together.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to get his thoughts together. What seemed like hours passed. He wasn't sure when he'd finally managed to fall asleep or how long he'd been asleep before waking up but he could tell it was still early hours of the morning.

His first thought was cocaine but he realised Molly's arm had found itself flung over his bare chest and her head buried into the side if his shoulder. She'd probably awaken if he got up now for a fix.

It wasn't worth it.

He'd already given into temptation too much that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**SHERLOCK: NOT OKAY**

_**Authors note**: Hey guys I've decided to continue this!_

_I can't give you a complete summary of where it's going because tbh I'm not even completely sure... I mean I have a basic outline of what I want to happen but nothing is set in stone! ;) but I can say it will involve drug use, fluffy moments, dark moments, sex and 'consequences of actions' (take that how you want)... How all that will actually translate into words I don't know, but it will happen! :D_

_I hope you guys don't mind my style of writing. How I switch the POVs (even though it's not in first person) and all the paragraph breaks and stuff... I'm trying to explore what is going through the characters heads and how they're feeling, whilst keeping in character as best as I can. I also don't want to rush the story too much._

_Thanks for the reviews! They're much appreciated and I love them! :)_

_I own nothing but my story line ;)_

_Here's chapter 2... Enjoy!_

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**CHAPTER 2**

The morning after their sexual encounter Sherlock awoke just after 8. He still craved the cocaine but found that he wanted something much more, sex. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up with 'morning wood'. Occasionally he'd work wonders with his hand if he had nothing better to do but the feeling he'd got from Molly was more enjoyable, despite his mind going AWOL on him. He wondered if it would be even better now that he wasn't high.

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Molly sighed contently as she was woken up by her fiancée pressing soft kisses to her lips.

Wait.

That wasn't right. She hadn't fallen asleep next to Tom. It took a moment for her sleepy brain to engage but her eyes snapped open to see Sherlock. Her mind quickly replayed last night and she realised she'd escaped a hangover despite drinking a fair amount.

He looked her in the eyes, a half smirk spread across his features and before she could protest he was kissing her passionately again. She allowed his tongue to push past her lips and compared the slow pace of the kiss to last night's impatient one. If it was possible she'd almost describe it as Sherlock being sensitive, a word she never thought she'd use to describe him or his actions.

He gently pushed her on to her back and positioned himself over her. He used one arm to balance and one hand went under the shirt he lent her and explored her body with no real direction, reminding her of her teenage years and encounters with inexperienced touchy-feely boys.

It also reminded her of her first time with Tom, he was so nervous and awkward when it happened. They both were.

"Excuse me?"

"Huh?" She blinked and realised Sherlock had stopped what he was doing, greeny-blue eyes staring down at her.

"You just called me Tom."

"I didn't call you Tom," she could feel her cheeks going red, "I was just thinking about him." She kicked herself mentally for saying that as soon as the words left her mouth. Most men wouldn't be happy at hearing that, and Sherlock's sudden sexual appetite proved to her that he was at least a little bit like most men, so she anticipated the annoyed response.

Instead he just kept looking at her.

He blinked several times, his expression unreadable. She shifted nervously and accidentally brushed his hard cock through the material if his boxers with the inside of her thigh. He let out an almost inaudible gasp then rolled off her.

He got out of bed and put on his dressing gown.

"You should go now," he didn't even bother looking at her as he left the room.

She quickly got dressed after that. The reality and guilt was beginning to sink in.

Sherlock was in the shower as she left. She cautiously went down the stairs, with every step thinking of a plausible explanation if Miss Hudson was to pop up. Luckily that never happened.

Once on the street she quickly hailed a black cab and gave the cabbie her address. She could see him checking out her attire in the mirror and begun small talk of how 'it must have been one hell of a night' but he soon shut up once she he saw the tears flowing down her face.

She had no contact with Sherlock for about a month after that.

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Sherlock thought about Molly several times during the next month.

Usually when he was bored and/or high, he'd either think about Molly first and then their sex session, then become turned on, or the drugs would kick start his sex drive and then he'd think about Molly. Either way, sex and Molly went hand in hand in his mind.

He could have easily had sex with Janine, she was definitely up for it, but whenever he was with her his mind was constantly thinking about the Magnussen case; it was hard to switch off from especially when she'd talk about her day at work and the boss. The case made him too excited to focus on sex.

The case took importance over sex but increasingly his focus on the case was becoming hindered by something else.

Cocaine and heroin. An upper and a downer respectively, but he didn't mind which one he took. They both worked wonders when he needed to relax or focus his mind or he was bored. And for the case; ultimately, that's why he was taking them the case. Just for the case.

He knew there was no such thing as an 'in-control drug addict' but he was managing to convince himself that that's what he was. At first he'd been able to stick to only getting high at the drugs den every other couple of nights, then after a few weeks he found himself getting high nearly every night, sometimes in the solace of his own apartment when he knew he wouldn't be disturbed by Mrs Hudson, Janine or anybody else.

"It's for the case," he'd mutter to himself. Not just because he was bored or was now finding it easier to concentrate mentally with their aid. He wasn't slipping back into his old habits. He'd stop as soon as his habit leaked into the media as he desired.

He'd been high when John turned up at the drug den. He knew he'd have to explain himself when the story did hit the press but he thought he'd be able to do it at his own comfort. But no, now the secret was out and with no chance to explain beforehand everybody just assumed that he'd slipped back into his old ways. Including Molly.

It had been a month since she had seen him and she welcomed him with a slap. Well three slaps. Each with more anger behind it than the one before.

Not a good move when he was high, he wouldn't physically hurt her but he could have easily torn her to shreds with his sharp tongue. But he managed to hold it back, he didn't want to ruin any chance he had left of having sex with her again. Especially now she'd seemingly split up with Tom.

For a while after that he didn't get high, not from illegal drugs anyway. With a gunshot wound, the hospital gave him all the morphine he could want.

Three weeks later he was officially discharged with advice to take over-the-counter Ibuprofen to control any pain he might experience.

John spent a lot of time back at 221b over the next couple of months, partly due to the case, partly due to the 'domestic' he was having with Mary and partly, Sherlock suspected, to keep an eye on him in regards to taking drugs.

He could count on one hand the amount of times he managed to get high during this period. He mentally thanked John for making it so hard for him to do so without being caught, yet at the same time he hated him for it.

He knew it wasn't just for the case anymore but he couldn't help it.

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Molly didn't expect Sherlock to turn up at her house so she hadn't seen him since she'd slapped him, not even to visit him at the hospital, and in the few the months he'd been discharged he hadn't shown up at the morgue either. Although a part of her wanted him to show his face, she knew she'd probably just make a fool of herself and end up getting hurt by him as she usually did. Plus she was still angry. Seeing his drug habit plastered across the daily tabloids. How dare he? Not to mention the headlines of his and Janine's sexual encounters, that didn't help her feelings either.

But now she had no choice but to confront him. Four days before Christmas and he was on her doorstep.

He knocked this time, usually opting to break in or use the spare key he had. She didn't bother questioning him about how he got a copy.

"May I come in?" He asked.

"You're not high are you?"

She could tell he was trying hard to not to give a smart ass reply and he just opted for a simple "no." She stepped aside and let him in her apartment.

"How could you Sherlock?" She cried the moment she shut the front door.

"It was for a case." He replied calmly.

"So I've heard," she watched him walk up to the sofa, taking his coat off and laying it over the back before taking a seat. Sitting up straight and fingers interlaced.

She took a seat in her armchair opposite, picking up the remote control to turn off the TV.

She sat back and pulled her dressing gown closer around her body, looking everywhere but his eyes. She could feel his eyes burning into her, waiting for her to speak again so he could properly judge what she was feeling towards him and tailor the perfect response like he always did. Eventually she met his gaze.

"That night we..." She willed herself not to go red, "we had sex. You were high, weren't you? You left your best friend's wedding to get a fix."

"No," he sounded offended at this accusation, "I didn't leave with the intention of getting high."

"But you did." She wasn't backing down.

"Yes," he admitted. "I did."

"That's the only reason you had sex with me right? Because you were high!" She sat forward mixture of sadness and anger building up inside of her. "Why do you think it's okay to keep doing this to me, Sherlock? I give you everything, I do everything you ask! I give you body parts, I help you fake your death; I go to the morgue at ridiculous hours just to aid you on a case. And yet you always throw it back in my face! You just use me! And all it takes is a few meaningless thank yous, apologies and compliments and I give in because I'm an idiot!"

"Molly..."

"Shut up! I haven't finished!" She got up and begun pacing around, she was on a roll now and she wasn't going to give him a chance to twist it around before she'd made it to the end. "Do you have any idea how much I worry about you? I cheated on my fiancé and lied to him all because... I..." Tears begun to roll down her face and she was getting choked up on her words. "Because I..." she repeated. 'I love you,' it sounded right in her head. But did she really love a man who treated her like nothing more than an object to manipulate when she was needed? That wasn't right. He wasn't the Prince Charming she had imagined falling in love with as little girl. No, it was lust. Not love.

Before she could actually say anything more out loud Sherlock had stood up and taken hold of her wrist, stopping her from pacing.

"Don't say sorry," she said looking up at him through tear glazed eyes.

Still holding of her arm with one hand, he bought the other up to her face and cupped her cheek wiping tears away with his thumb.

"You're not an idiot. Sentiment is a chemical defect, a weakness, but I've learnt it can't be helped. I'm an idiot, thinking that it's acceptable to exploit a person I should be grateful to."

She didn't know how to take his words; he looked sincere, but then he always did when he wanted to get his way.

And then his eyes were closed.

Then he was leaning towards her.

Kissing her.

Exploiting her chemical defect.

For a minute she let him; it felt so good, like that night a couple of months ago. She ran her hand through his hair pulling him deeper into the kiss, their tongues fighting for dominance.

Exploitation at its most.

She pushed him away and he looked shocked.

"Get out!" She shouted and his expression changed to confusion. "You are an idiot! You can't just admit using me and then just kiss me!"

"I wasn't using you," he said.

"Get out now!"

"I was trying to apologise. I'm not even high this time!"

"Oh, because that makes it better? Just leave me alone Sherlock! I hate you!"

She didn't really hate him. She didn't love him. She didn't know what she felt right now.

For once he didn't argue back or say anything. He picked up his coat and left.

She sat on the sofa and sobbed quietly to herself. What an idiot. And then her phone vibrated in her pocket. She wiped her eyes on her sleeves and pulled it out.

It was him.

She didn't have to unlock the phone to read it.

_'Please. I'm not okay. I'm addicted. SH'_

She reread it several times before throwing the device across onto the armchair.

He wasn't the only one. When he kissed her she was nearly putty in his hands.

He was so bad for her yet she wanted more.


	3. Chapter 3

**SHERLOCK: NOT OKAY**

_**Author's note:**_

_Short chapter! I know where this story's going now, so bare with me! :') I'm just getting into my zone! I hope I kept everybody in character, it's getting hard! Especially since there was a lot of dialogue this chapter, but I like a good challenge hehe! Next update should be tomorrow and that's where the trouble really starts! Actions have consequences! :D_

_Thanks for all the reviews! They are appreciated! So please do review! They motivate me! ;) suggestions and constructive criticism always welcome!_

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**CHAPTER THREE:**

January 17th

Molly still hadn't spoken to Sherlock. She thought about him almost constantly though.

He'd shot a man, point blank range in the head, Lestrade had told her. He was a murderer. But she knew he must have had his reasons. Still, she wasn't sure how to feel about this. Then, apparently, he was exiled from the England which lasted less than five minutes, again information found out from Lestrade. Yet he never came to say goodbye to her. Now Moriarty was supposedly back on the scene and still no word whatsoever.

How could she begin to forgive him for everything else when more stuff just kept piling up against him?

Granted she hadn't replied to his text the night she last saw him, or apologised for saying that she hated him, but surely if he thought their friendship was worth it he wouldn't have given up that easily. He was like a dog with a bone when it came to getting what he wanted.

She obviously wasn't what he wanted, just needed at the time.

She worried about him though, god was she worried. But he had John and his brother now to keep a close eye on him. Surely not even the great Sherlock Holmes could escape his brother's watchful eye now and slip back into his old habits.

Then there was that night, the night she'd dreamed of sharing with him since the day she'd first met him. It was different from all the times she'd imagined but it still happened nonetheless. She wanted him again but she definitely didn't need him.

She scrolled down her phonebook to his name, her thumb hovering over it.

No.

She locked the phone and hastily put it back in her pocket with a sigh.

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Out of the two, heroin was becoming his drug of choice. Cocaine fuelled his sex drive too much and there was no Molly to help him with that. Heroin had the opposite effect, though it still didn't stop him from thinking about her.

She hated him. He didn't hate her.

The Moriarty case was so much more thrilling than the Magnussen one, and he had his dear friend beside him to help like the good old days, at the promise Sherlock wouldn't complain if he took 'personal time' with his heavily pregnant wife. Yet he still couldn't give up on the drugs.

After the events of killing Magnussen and his 'banishment', it hadn't taken him long to slip back into the routine he'd adopted before getting shot of getting high on the daily. John would rarely stay past 7pm, and he knew after 11pm the likelihood of Mrs Hudson disturbing him or a random appearance from Mycroft were slim so that's he could take drugs without being interrupted. He even tried smoking again as an alternative but found that was no comparison.

There was no way he was going to confide in John about his drug problem but perhaps there was something his friend could help him with.

"You what?!"

The expression on John's face was priceless at that moment, better than the time he'd revealed his 'relationship' with Janine.

"We slept together."

"You shagged Molly Hooper." the doctor repeated said slowly.

"Yes," he nodded, "we engaged in sexual intercourse."

"But I thought you were a..."

"Virgin?" Sherlock finished. "Not anymore."

"Erm," John shifted in his chair awkwardly thinking about what to say next. "So how was it for you?"

"Good," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"How did it happen?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "You've bragged of three continents and have a pregnant wife. I'm sure you can use your imagination doctor." He nodded towards the wall where the sofa was. "I'd place us about there."

"Oh god Sherlock," John groaned, "I didn't mean that. Mental image, I can't ever un-think that now. Thanks a lot."

Sherlock grinned, he knew the point of his friend's question hadn't been that, but he would never miss up on the chance to provoke that sort of reaction from him.

"I mean how did it come about that you done the deed?"

"Oh right, well she came over the night of your wedding. We spoke, we kissed and then we had sex." He left out the part about being high; John didn't need to know that.

"Wow," John murmured, "when you texted me I would have never guessed I was coming over for this conversation. The night of my wedding though, wasn't she still with Tom?"

"Please spare me the lecture about morals, John."

"Actually I was going to say," John smiled, "maybe she got the two of you confused."

"Confuse me with him? Mr Meat Dagger? Please don't insult me." Sherlock caught his friend's eye and they both began laughing.

"He's an idiot."

"Understatement."

"He's like your clone gone wrong."

Once the Tom jokes ran dry, Sherlock explained to John, that since he had more experience when it came to the fairer sex, perhaps he could advise him as to why Molly was so annoyed with him. Of course he didn't mention that she pretty much knew that he'd taken, or rather was still taking drugs for more than just a case.

"I doubt she really hates you Sherlock."

"She won't have sex with me again."

"Still haven't quite grasped the concept of human emotions have you, buddy?"

"Déjà vu," Sherlock was amused that his friends words echoed those exact ones his wife muttered to him when they first met.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "Just tell me what I done wrong so I can fix it."

"I'm not going to help you use Molly Hooper because you've finally discovered the joys of sex."

"I don't want her just for sex."

John raised an eyebrow, "A proper relationship then?"

"No," Sherlock screwed up his face at the idea. "I just want it to be back to normal."

"Friendship?"

"If that's what you'd call it," Sherlock sighed. He needed whatever she could give him; sex, help, friendship.

"Sex complicates friendship, and the fact Molly has feelings towards you anyway probably doesn't help either," John explained. "Plus the whole drugs thing, she was pretty pissed off. I can understand why, she cares about you."

"It was for the case."

"Doesn't stop her worrying."

"Well she's obviously not worried about me right now as she hasn't spoken to me since..."

"Sherlock," John sat forward and gave him a questioning look, "why would she be worried now?"

Sherlock mentally kicked himself for the near slip up but he didn't hesitate with a quick reply. "Because my homicidal, psychotic archenemy has seemingly returned from the dead. Why wouldn't she worry about me?"

John rolled his eyes and sat back again. "Just apologise."

"Tried that,"

"Without shoving your tongue down her throat, Sherlock. My guess is she's feeling vulnerable and you can be very intimidating."

"I am not intimidating."

"Yes you are," John insisted. "So you've got to let her know you're feeling just as vulnerable as she is."

"Now I'm vulnerable as well? You have no idea what you're going on about, do you?"

"Not a bloody clue," John chuckled. "Welcome to the world of women Sherlock, it's a complicated place."

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath it seemed there was no quick solution to this.

"Sherlock,"

"Yes John,"

"You know if there is something you think Molly should be worried about or I should be. I want to know." John said sheepishly.

Sherlock didn't dismiss his friend's caring as annoying as he usually would have, he just nodded. John seemed to appreciate his lack of sarcasm and smiled before looking at his watch.

"Sorry Sherlock, I've got to rush off. Mary wants to go to Ikea this afternoon."

Sherlock watched John get up and grab his coat, "How is she?" He asked.

"She's fine, in the nesting stage" John replied. "Scrubbed the kitchen floor five times in the past couple of days. Nearly killed me when I went in there with my shoes still on yesterday."

"I'll be sure to stay out of the way then. Give her my love."

"That's probably for the best. And I will. And just try to speak to Molly again okay just don't be a complete dickhead this time" John was typing a text as he spoke. "Oh, and I'll pick up them files from Lestrade on my way tomorrow if he has them."

"See you then."

"See you." John put his phone in his pocket and offered Sherlock a goodbye gesture with his hand before leaving.

Sherlock didn't move for about half an hour, he went over and over all the information he had on Moriarty. But since his 'return' there was still hardly any new leads on him or who was behind it. In fact there wasn't much to do until Lestrade provided him with them files tomorrow.

Great. He was bored.

He got up and went to the fridge, he hadn't been shopping in a while yet all the essentials were in there, Mrs Hudson's doing no doubt. He hadn't eaten a decent meal in a while, just a few mouthfuls of takeaway when he knew that John was watching him. He knew he should have something, anything, but he wasn't hungry so opted for slamming the door shut.

It wasn't the drugs, no, he rarely ate anyway. Same went for sleeping too; he only required the bare minimum, although he struggled to remember when he'd got even that without waking up during the night and craving something in the form of sex or drugs.

He checked his phone as if expecting to see a text from Molly, of course not. He opened up the thread of messages between them, rereading the last one before typing.

'Molly, we need to talk. SH'

There were no second thoughts before he pressed send even then he still didn't have a chance to think as the distinctive factory setting iPhone text alert went off.

But it wasn't his phone. It wasn't even coming from the kitchen. Before he could investigate, his answer has entered the flat, poking her head around the door with a gentle knock. She let herself in and quickly spotted him in the kitchen.

"Mrs Hudson let me in," she explained. He didn't even recall hearing the doorbell, annoying thing, he often blocked it out.

"That was quick Molly,"

"What?"

"I just text you,"

"Oh," she reached into her coat pocket to get her phone and read his message. "Great minds think alike." She laughed nervously.

They stared at each other, he suddenly found himself lost for words. Unsure of how to approach the subjects without saying something that she could take the wrong way.

"Can I get you a drink?" It was a start.

She looked pleasantly surprised at his question, like he'd never offered her a beverage before. He'd handed her a glass of wine at a 'social get together' a few years back.

"Tea please, I'll take..."

"I know how you like your tea."

"Of course you do."

Whilst he prepared her drink, she took off her coat and took a seat on the sofa. Sitting up straight pretending to busy herself on her phone, not realising he was aware of every lingering glance she stole of him. At the fear of getting turned on he pushed all sexual thoughts to the corner of his mind, he knew they weren't a priority at this moment in time.

Damn, did she have to bite her bottom lip like that?

She eyed the drink carefully as he handed it over and took a seat next to her. Her expression quickly changed to that of satisfaction once she'd taken a sip.

"Let's talk then," she said looking down into the cup. "How are you?"

He didn't know how to reply, should he lie and say okay then wait for her to press him more? Should he offload all his problems at once? Or maybe this was one of them female reverse psychology things where he wasn't supposed to answer, instead asking her how she was. What if he came across intimidating, like John had advised against?

"Are you still using drugs?"

Oh, that's what she wanted to know.

"Yes," he took a deep breath. "Every day; heroin or cocaine."

Her breathing rhythm faltered at his admittance. She gripped her cup tighter and still didn't look at him.

She didn't hate him.

"Why? Is the Moriarty thing too boring for you? Does it help you focus or something?"

"At first I used to use out of boredom, plus they do help me think. But now it's more than that. I'm nothing more than an addict, getting high because I have to."

Now she faced him, eyes full of disappointment. More so than when she'd slapped him at the lab. He didn't like it. He wanted to tell her to stop.

"I am dependant on the drugs." he didn't want to say it and he knew she didn't want to hear it. But he felt relief saying it out loud perhaps now she would understand just how much he needed her.

John was right about feeling vulnerable.

"When I texted you saying that I was addicted, it wasn't a lie. It wasn't to manipulate you." He said.

"Why did you have sex with me?"

He took a moment before answering this, he wanted to be truthful with her but at the same time he didn't want to come across too blunt. Something he had a habit of doing.

"I was curious, not only did I physically crave sex I wanted to know what it felt like mentally and I found you appealing."

"You mean you found me useful?" Her tone quickly changed to bordering the 'anger danger zone'.

"Was Janine useful as well? You really did do a number on her!"

He rolled his eyes at the memory of his fictional sex life splashed across the daily tabloids. "I didn't have sex with Janine, that was her idea of revenge." He really didn't want to talk about this. They were getting nowhere, how irritating.

"You know you cheated on your husband with me?"

His brain was telling him to shut up now, unfortunately his mouth had other plans.

"You can't exactly play the wounded victim. In fact you flirted with me all the time, you even suggested we go out for dinner whilst when I came back to London at which time you were engaged. You came to my house uninvited that night and willingly had sex with me. Maybe I was using you at the time but I don't know exactly what you expected. A confession of love? A marriage proposal? I didn't promise you any of that. You know who I am, Molly."

He should have just stuck with repeatedly saying sorry again.

Now she was crying. There were tears rolling down her face and he was certain her brain was trying to come up with new insults to use on him. He wanted to call a time out. He'd only stated the truth though; this was an irrational response to it.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, it was coming, the insult she'd thought up especially for him.

"I know,"

Did he hear that right?

"We've both screwed up. I can't not care for you, Sherlock; trust me I've tried"

"I need you," he softened his features.

"I want you,"

That's what he wanted to hear.


	4. Chapter 4

**SHERLOCK: NOT OKAY**

_**Author's note: **_

_Thanks for all the awesome reviews and positive feedback! :') I'm glad you are all enjoying this story and I hope I can continue to please!_

_Also guess what! I have exciting news! Me and my mates got really good seats for the theatre performance of Richard III starring Martin Freeman here in London for August and again for the closing date in September! This is as exciting as when I was privileged enough to see Hiddles in Coriolanus a few times hehe! Is anyone reading this story going? :D_

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

"May I?" He asked leaning towards her.

She caught her breath, eyes filled with lust and longing, but she seemed unsure.

"It's okay if you don't want to Molly," he assured. "I really want you and I know that you want me too. But if you do insist that I am using you then I'll just have to let you use me too..." He leaned in closer, whispering in her ear, "in any way you see fit to."

"Oh god," he heard the words leave her lips and he smirked.

"So may I?"

Her reply was to slide her fingers through his hair and push his head down until his lips were on her neck. He began sucking and biting the area remembering that last time he never checked the next morning if he'd left a mark. This time he would.

She undid the buttons on his blazer and then his shirt, pushing them both off his shoulders and on to the floor at the same time. She sat back and eyes roamed over his naked torso a hand coming up to trace a finger around the bullet wound scar on his chest, she frowned. Then her gaze travelled to his arms going back and forth between the two, before settling on one.

The frown grew.

Needle marks, he didn't have to look to know that they were there.

He tilted her chin up so her attention was back on his face.

"Later Molly," he said knowing that she probably had something to say about this. "But for now, what do you want me to do to you?" He asked.

"Erm," she went red as he expected. "Whatever you want."

"No, that's not an answer." he shook his head. "What specifically do you want me to do? What do you like?" He begun unbuttoning her blouse and without bothering to remove it slid his hand round the back and unhooked her bra, grateful it easily came undone, and discarded it next to his shirt and blazer. He licked his lips and stroked one of her breasts, amused at how quickly her nipples became hard.

"All the things you've fantasised about me doing to you, I want to know."

"Sh-Sherlock..."

He silenced her with a kiss then took hold of her hand. "I will try my best to restrain myself from achieving my own gratification whilst seeing to pleasing you." He ran her hand over the now prominent bulge in his trousers. "It won't be easy, see what you do to me?"

"Can we go to the bedroom?"

He nodded and led her by the hand to his room.

"Kiss me," she ordered once the door was shut behind them. He was slightly taken aback by her sudden confidence, especially without the aid of alcohol, but he didn't need to be told twice.

He suddenly realised just how much he'd missed the feeling of her lips against his.

He pushed her against the nearest wall and he had to stop himself from doing her like that there and then like a repeat of their first time. He finally removed her shirt completely then pushed her jeans down which she kicked to the side along with her shoes.

He ran his hand over the thin material of her panties and felt how wet she already was.

"Use your fingers," she gasped.

Sherlock nodded and removed the last item of clothing from her. He remembered last time, she responded positively to him playing with her clit with his tongue and with his fingers during intercourse so that's what he begun doing. He began circling it with his thumb slowly and teasingly.

"More," she pleaded.

"Faster?" He quizzed.

"No," she grabbed the hand that was playing with her and bought it up to her mouth. She engulfed his index finger and released it with a slight pop, "more."

"Oh," His eyes widened slightly as he realised what she meant.

His wet finger probed her wetter entrance before he slid it in with ease. Slowly, he thrust it in and out and after he bent his finger slightly he knew he hit the right spot when she threw her head back against the wall and mumbled profanities.

It was a sight that made him hungry for more. Then he felt her hands working his belt undone.

"No Molly, this is about you first," he was determined to show restraint.

He withdrew his finger and ignored her protests, guiding her to lay down the bed and balancing himself over her.

He made his was down her body until his head was in between her legs.

"Now what?" He teasingly licked the inside of her thigh.

"Make me come" she ordered.

"Okay," he flicked his tongue over her clit and her hips bucked upwards. As his tongue worked its magic he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder to give him access to use his finger as well. He quickly found her spot again and it wasn't long before it felt like she was pulling chucks of curls from his head and groaning his name in pleasure.

What would Mrs Hudson think if she could hear?

Her hands slipped from his hair and dropped to her sides, breathing heavily as she regained composure.

He was now painfully aware of his hard cock pressing into the bed. He stood up to remove his trousers and boxers before lowering himself over her again.

"Feel good?" He murmured against her neck.

"Yeah," she sighed and he lifted his head to look at her. She smiled and gently brushed her lips over his, softly biting the bottom one.

"So now it's your turn." Her hand wrapped around his cock and begun stroking him slowly.

Her hand seemed to work him better than his own ever did and he found himself thrusting into her movements, needing more friction.

He took her hand that was wrapped around him and guided himself towards her entrance.

"I'm still on the pill."

Like before he wasn't asking, such details were the last thing on his mind in such a situation.

He entered her slowly, holding back, he wanted to see how long he could make this last. Longer than before he hoped.

"Try not to rip my back to shreds this time Molly."

"Sorry," she said shyly as he started to kiss her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Several times Molly had to remind herself this wasn't one of her sex dreams about Sherlock.

The first time they'd done it he had been high, she had been drunk and it was all about him.

Now they were both sober and he needed her. She was there for him as always and, perhaps out of gratitude, he'd put her before him.

It felt good.

For now she'd forgotten how angry she was at him. She wanted to believe that he wasn't just messing with her, in this moment it didn't feel like that; it felt like he actually wanted her.

He wasn't very verbal. Occasionally he'd make the odd comment or mutter a profanity between heavy breaths and when she'd wrapped her legs around his back allowing him to thrust deeper he groaned her name in such a delicious way.

Soon he was hitting the right spot, the spot that meant that she wasn't going to last much longer. When she began moving her hips in time with his thrusts he took this as a sign to go faster.

His head was right next to hers, cheek to cheek, his breathing seemed to speed up at the same rate as his thrusts. She laced her fingers through his hair and the other grabbed at his back, trying to be aware of her nails.

She lifted her hips higher to match his rhythm. It felt so good. He was sweating.

It was a race to the finish line now.

And she won.

Her body spasmed as a wave of pleasure travelled through her. There was going to be marks on his back, she'd have to apologise. She cried something that sounded like his name and when she clenched around his cock that's when he caught up.

After a few determined thrusts followed by string of jumbled words she couldn't put together were moaned into her ear he froze.

Then there was silence.

His face buried in the pillow, cheek still against hers. Eventually he withdrew and rolled off of her sitting on the side of the bed.

Still silence.

His elbows rested against his knees and he leaned forwards holding his head in his hands.

She couldn't see his expression. Unsure of what to do she just stared at his back.

She had left a few scratches on his back. There were also faint scars in several places. She wondered how he got them. Knowing him, it would either be a really exciting story or less than pleasant one; there'd be no in between with him.

Before she could think twice her arm had stretched out so she could run her finger down the longest scar. Instantaneously he whipped his head around and she withdrew her arm.

"Sherlock..."

"Please don't speak, I need to think, sort out my mind." He ruffled his hair with one hand. "That was more intense than before, mentally as well as physically. Weird but good." He trailed off and repositioned the pillows so he could lay back with his head propped comfortably against the headboard.

"Stay, rest for a while," he said.

She nodded, opting to get under the covers unlike him.

Like the first time they shared a bed she was too nervous and embarrassed to face him, so he got a view of the back of her head.

She shut her eyes.

Wondering what came next between them.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The plan for him hadn't been to fall asleep. But when she'd finally nodded off and rolled over to face him, he too slipped under the covers and finally let fatigue claim him.

It was the best sleep he'd had in a while.

But he woke up dead at 7pm. The time of day when he'd really start craving his next fix of drugs but knowing he'd have to wait it out a few hours until after that time he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.

The only solace in these few hours was knowing he'd be high soon.

Or maybe not, he couldn't with Molly there.

What if she decided to stay?

But that was the whole point right? He knew he had a problem, one that could potentially kill him, and having her around would help him get off the drugs.

Cold turkey was asking a bit too much though. He couldn't do that, not at this stage.

Four hours they'd been asleep, he knew she'd be awake soon. Many nights had been spent on her sofa prior to faking his death and when she hadn't consumed ridiculous amounts of alcohol the most she ever slept for was around seven hours.

He doubted she'd want to sleep again when she woke. So he made a decision. He'd get high now and then slip back into bed and occupy himself in his mind palace. When she woke up he'd simply feign still being asleep.

Genius! He really was.

He carefully slipped out of bed and put his boxers back on along with his dressing gown. He pulled out a red leather bound book from his bookcase and quietly left the room.

He made his way into the living area; his and Molly's discarded clothes were neatly folded on his armchair.

He'd definitely be hearing about this from Mrs Hudson. He laughed to himself imagining her reaction upon finding a bra on the floor, especially since she'd let Molly in earlier.

Going back to the kitchen, he took a seat at the table and opened the book in front of him. Hollowed out. One of the oldest, yet most efficient, tricks in the book.

He took out a syringe he'd preloaded with heroin and rolled up his sleeve. Clenching his fist until a vein appeared. He took the needle to his skin, in a moment it would feel so good.

But he couldn't.

He heard footsteps.

She was watching.

"Don't, Sherlock."

He glanced sideways at the figure in the doorway, she'd helped herself to one of his shirts. "Go back to sleep Molly, or go home."

"You want my help, so let me give it to you."

"Not now."

"Yes now. You can't have the sex and the drugs. I won't let you do this!"

"Molly..." He clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes as she walked up to him.

Her small hand cupped his cheek, stroking his face. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy her gentle touch. He momentarily let down his guard.

His mistake.

She snatched the syringe from his hand and jumped back out of his reaching distance.

"Give it back Molly," he said, "this isn't a game."

"You're right," she held up the syringe and examined the liquid, "this is your life. Not something you should be playing around with. I mean what is so great about this?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Then tell me! Talk to me Sherlock, like earlier when you told me you were addicted. Just talk to me so I can help."

"This is no time for conversation Molly." He jumped up and made a grab for the syringe but she was evaded him.

"Fine if you won't tell me what's so good about it then I'll just have to find out myself," she pulled up the shirt sleeve holding out her arm, pointing the needle dangerously close to her vein.

"Don't be so stupid!" He shouted. Clenching his fists, out of frustration. He wished it was John standing in front of him. Someone he could just punch it out with.

"Why should you get to have all the fun?"

"I know what you're trying to do; you're not going to actually do it so just hand it back to me now."

"Maybe I will," she looked him straight in the eye, an expression of determination across her face.

Suddenly he really was unsure of whether she'd actually do this.

He lunged forward to grab her.

He didn't know if he made it though.

Everything suddenly went black.


End file.
